


Senses

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Language, First Time, Humor, M/M, Mystery, Out of Character, Parody, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex, Suspense, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-07
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2018-09-30 12:31:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10163108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Draco's distracted lately. There's something different about the air during his seventh year. He can smell it. Literally. A mysterious scent sends Draco  into an aroused frenzy. He desperately searches for the source of both the aroma and his lust.1. Story ignores the existence of Voldemort.2. There are five chapters, one for each of the human sense (i.e. smell. touch, taste, hearing and sight)3. R&R is much appreciated.





	1. First Sense: Follow Your Nose

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

_Disclaimer: I do not and will never own any of these characters or the Potter Universe. All rights and copyrights (except for this fan fiction’s plot) belong to J.K Rowling and associated publishers and producers of the Harry Potter series. No money has been or will be made from the following story._

**A/N: I was sitting around bored with nothing to do having drawn a few art commissions so I opened up word document to continue my other story (‘A Lesson in Romantics’ which is currently running simultaneously with this series). But then this fantastic idea popped into my head and I just had to type it all out so the other series is now a little delayed (but alas, I digress). Hope you enjoy it anyway.**

* * *

Follow Your Nose

There it was again. That strangely addicting earthy and musky aroma that made Draco’s trousers tighten uncomfortably beneath his black school regulation robes, wafted throughout the sweltering Transfiguration classroom, charmed to be a constant 30 degrees during the colder months. The smell had been driving mad ever since he had returned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Draco unfortunately had yet to locate its source and now it was already very late autumn. He knew that it would only become harder to find the person who emitted such a delicious scent once winter settled in. For one thing, it was already difficult as it is to just catch a whiff of their fragrance among all the other lingering hormonal teenage odours (cats, cheap perfume, sweat, so and so forth). But their aroma was different; au naturel. It screamed ‘Eat me!’ and how Draco wanted to eat them.

 

He had developed a highly keen sense of smell when he had come into his magical inheritance on his seventeenth birthday. Contrary to what everyone believed, Draco, thought part Veela from his mother’s side, could not inherit the magical powers of his female ancestors (save his handsome looks, but it was pure chance had both his parents were stunning blondes) But there was a darker side to his bloodline that not even his closest comrades knew of. His great, great, great, great paternal grandfather had been a werewolf. It was perhaps his family’s most secret of secrets; his father would never openly admit to having any ‘creature blood’ in their lineage. Of course, Draco himself did not transform into a werewolf having not been directly infected by lycanthropy, but he had inherited the superhuman strength, superb night vision, sensitive hearing and sharp intuit for taste and smell.

 

Damn! He had just lost the scent. Pansy, who was sitting beside him, leaned closer to pretend to copy some notes she had missed during McGonagall’s endless lecture, her small breasts pressing against his arm. Draco shifted his arm politely from underneath her chest. She smelt strongly of what most likely was very expensive perfume, which irritated Draco’s nose. He held back the urge to let loose a distractingly loud sneeze. He didn’t like it when Pansy tried to put her moves on him. Truthfully, Pansy was quite attractive in the snooty, I’m-A-Princess-And-Should-Be-Treated-As-Such type of way. Her coldness and indifference to all males other than Draco made many of the Slytherin males want her more. Personally, Draco never saw her as a potential girlfriend, let alone lover. No, in his mind, Pansy was simply a good friend and a sister at best.

 

The bell rang, for which Draco was grateful as it gave him an adequate reason to leave Pansy’s proximity until dinner. He packed his bag and slung it onto one shoulder before striding out gracefully.

 

Wondering if Blaise was already there, Draco made his way towards his Double Potions class. A whiff of the alluring aroma made Draco stop in his tracks. It was always like this. He would occasionally pick up the scent as he walked in between his lessons and if he were lucky enough, in the actual lessons themselves. This allowed him to infer that the source of the arousing fragrance must be a seventh year student like himself. Draco was very determined to identify exactly who the student was before possibly ravaging them all night and perhaps even into the early hours of the following morning. With firm perseverance, he entered the already open potions classroom to await the beginning of his godfather’s lesson.

 

Nothing, absolutely N-O-T-H-I-N-G; there had yet to be any progress. Draco was so frustrated (both mentally and sexually). He was anguished by the scent that haunted him day and night. So much so that he now started to question on some of the occasions, if he had really encountered it around a corner, during classes, in the Great Hall. It was positively driving him insane!

 

Stifling a grunt as he came, his come splattering onto the walls just before being washed away by the scalding hot jets of water of the shower, Draco mentally cursed. This was the third time that he pulled himself off during this particular session. Each time, he would recall the musky aroma and a genderless shadowy human figure grasping his large cock firmly giving it a few tugs. The person would then lower themself onto their knees and slowly engulf Draco, gagging just ever so slightly as they swallowed him to the root.

 

Merlin, he had to stop! Otherwise by the time he felt fully satisfied and stepped out of the bathroom his golden skin would resemble the texture of a prune!

 

Slumping unceremoniously onto his bed, Draco endeavoured to get a good night’s sleep. Hopefully all that spent sexual energy in the bathroom was enough...Or not. Draco cursed aloud this time as he rolled over underneath his covers and extracted his erection from the confines of his pyjama bottoms. He was rather thankful of the privacy privileges his position as Head Boy allowed him. It wouldn’t do well at all if he had to explain to other roommates why he had just sworn so loudly or what that strange swishing noise was. Just one more time, Draco told himself. One more time and he would stop. One more time and he would go to bed...Yeah right.

 

It couldn’t be, all the fibres of Draco’s being tried desperately to deny. There was no way that the person whose scent Draco had been lusting after was _him_. Everything about the prick was despicable: the arrogance, the heroism, the bloody womanising...And that disgusting sprinkling of freckles and head of red hair! How could it be Ron Weasley?!

 

Draco thumped his head against the long mahogany desk of the library, earning a spiteful from Madam Pince. He sat motionless, head in arms, as Draco recalled the events that led up to his horrid discovery.

 

Weasel and Scar-head had been showing off their warm camaraderie by roughly jostling each other or yanking the other’s hair, which is, in Draco’s opinion, only something those kinds of unrefined Gryffindors who were probably raised in a barn would do. Draco who had been returning from the Great Hall having eaten his fill was flanked as usual by Crabbe and Goyle. As they turned the corner, Weasley falling head first onto Draco as he tripped, ended sprawled across Draco’s stomach. It was then that Draco realised _the_ aroma rolled off from Weasley’s body. Draco had been ready to spout a few well chosen insults when his surprise prevented anything intelligible to escape from his mouth. He had simply stood up abruptly and brusquely walked towards the Slytherin common room leaving behind a befuddled Potter, Weasley, Crabbe and Goyle.

 

Crabbe and Goyle have yet to question him about the incident, having noted Draco’s irritability whenever the subject of the Golden Trio cropped up. Now Draco truly wished he hadn’t found out where the scent came from. To imagine having what he had fantasised in the shower performed by Weasley, his flaming red head bobbing against Draco’s crotch, made the Slytherin shiver with horror. And quite frankly, the other boy’s machismo offered no other interpretation to his sexuality. And Draco as a dominant could not imagine Weasel being taken or have Weasel take him. Again, he shuddered at the thought of engaging in any sexual activity with that particular individual.

 

There _had_ to be a mistake.

 

Over the Christmas and Easter holidays, Draco simply ignored the niggling implications of what he had discovered. He concentrated on passing the mock examinations questions that professors were beginning to hand out but still found that he was often distracted by the same scent. Then the NEWTs came. Draco studied hard during the day and at night wanked even harder than he studied. Masturbation now served a dual purpose: relieving his exam stress and fulfilling his sexual desires (which, he prays to all his deities and even some that were not for good measure, was not for Ronald Weasley).

 

The bell tolled, signalling that at last all of the NEWT exams were over. As students exited the Great Hall which had been converted into a written examination centre, many students whooped and cheered. He had made plans, pre-exam, with Blaise, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle to immediately trek to Hogsmeade for a few butterbeers in celebration of having escaped almost entirely unscathed. 

 

It would seem that they had not been the only circle of friends to have thought of this. A gaggle of female Ravenclaws sat in the booth beside them chatting away amicably. The Three Broomsticks was not packed as it usually was on the weekends where patrons were sometimes forced to stand at the bar and around tables. That being said, all of the seats of the little pub were filled by Hogwarts students with only a few customers who had come in to have a tea break. The couple at the table to their right for example, was discussing quietly over the remains of two slices of cake.

 

Just as the couple stood to leave, the door of the Three Broomsticks opened and admitted more Hogwarts students: the unmistakable flaming head of hair followed by Granger’s bushy brown mop and Potter’s permanently windswept locks.

 

The only seats available were the ones from which the couple had just left. Draco groaned inwardly when the three approached though he noticed Potter’s hesitant and unsure look. It wasn’t as if the Slytherins enjoyed the others’ presence very much, but it was a very warm day and a chilled butterbeer was better than no butterbeer. Neither of the two groups would have been prepared to leave.

 

And thus they sat, keeping to their own respective circle. It was beginning to get very hot under his black robes. Draco decided to follow his friends’ example and remove the heavy garment. The Golden Trio beside them had done so already. Draco frowned slightly at the thought of Weasley’s odour emanating off his sweaty back as it was turned to Draco. Much to his surprise, there was no smell when he turned his head in Weasley’s direction pretending to search for someone to remove the empty bottles from their table, or rather not the same smell he had encountered during their unfortunate accident. Weasley now smelt of freshly mown grass. But the earthy musk Draco so dearly lusted after was also lingering about the air surrounding them. He deeply inhaled as discretely as he could. Yes, it was most definitely there. It couldn’t Granger could it? Oh Merlin, what would his ancestors think? It was all very likely. Weasley could have been fooling around with her and got smothered in her essence.

 

Then something clicked within Draco’s mind. That day, when Weasel had tripped and fallen onto him, Weasley had been in contact quite closely with Potter from all their friendly roughhousing. As the realisation sunk in, Draco felt rather relieved that he had not been aroused by a Weasley or a walking textbook all this time. But the fact that he wasn’t at all uncomfortable with the knowledge that the person who had been turning him on (whether consciously or not he neither knew, nor cared) was Potter came as a slight surprise for the young Malfoy heir.

 

Well the brunette was rather attractive after all. There was no question about it. His dazzling green eyes, the seductively wet and red lips that sipped butterbeer from its bottle (I’ll give you something much tastier to sip, a nasty part of Draco’s mind thought) and the lithe body concealed under the thin fabric of his white button shirt and trousers.

 

“Draco.” Pansy nudged his shin with the tip of her sturdy leather school shoes. He had stopped listening to her a few minutes ago, lost in his musings about what other less obvious features of one Harry Potter were not yet observed.

“Hmm?” He hummed absentmindedly.

“You’re staring too much at Potty.” Blaise stated in a low voice, airing Pansy’s annoyance.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him.

Crabbe and Goyle continued to eat their cakes as they awaited hi answer patiently, little concerned about anything other than their food.

“Just something evil, that I’d like to try on him.” Draco replied vaguely.

Pansy giggled.

Well it was true. What Draco had been thinking would be evil in Harry’s perspective and it was something that Draco could not wait to perform on the Gryffindor. Now if only there was a way to lure the Gryffindor into the deep dungeons of the castle without causing him suspicion. Something must be done. And soon, Draco’s cock reminded him as he willed his erection away. He had gotten rather good at that. How else was he to do his exams with his package distracting him? Thank heavens that he had been smart enough to drape his robes over his knees when he had taken it off.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Yes, as conceited as my presumptions are, you must be screaming as to why I’m ending things here. But fear not, this is a series so you need not worry yourself about whether or not there will be more. Pity though, that humans only have five senses otherwise I would probably write more chapters.**

**If you liked it so far, please leave a review to help me in my future chapters :D Thank you and love you all!**


	2. Second Sense: The Voyeur

  
Author's notes: Harry is finally beginning to realise how very oddly Draco is acting around him. And he can't help but respond, quite positively!  


* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not and will never own any of these characters or the Potter Universe. All rights and copyrights (except for this fan fiction’s plot) belong to J.K Rowling and associated publishers and producers of the Harry Potter series. No money has been or will be made from the following story._

**A/N: Another instalment of Five Senses has finally been completed. I’m sorry it took so long to write it =_=”” my internet modem broke the other day and I’ve been so unmotivated to write more because of it. But now I thought I’d better buckle down and just do it already. Hope you enjoy :D**

* * *

The Voyeur

Draco Malfoy was acting rather suspicious lately. Harry didn’t like it. Harry did not like it at all. He looked away, half flustered when Malfoy caught him staring in their Double Potions class. In the process he accidently knocked his potions textbook off the table. Turning even redder, Harry bent down to pick it up. When he found his page again, he could still feel Malfoy’s intense silvery grey eyes on him. Harry glared, but was offered a smile in return. This was exactly what he meant. Usually the reaction was stifled laughter or an evil grin. But a smile, not that hated smirk, was not something Harry was used to seeing. He tried hard to concentrate and ignore the plotting git for the remaining half hour they had left. Though the NEWTs were over, it would be most uncharacteristic of Snape to allow his Seventh Years any reprieve. Harry knew it was hopeless; his Bacchantes^ potion was erroneous beyond salvation. Unlike the glossy wine coloured liquid of Hermione’s cauldron, his batch was still a milky pink of the initial stages of brewing. Snape strode past but refrained from commenting except for the usual demeaning raise of an eyebrow. Something told Harry that he would be receiving a big red ‘F’ for his attempts.

 

With five minutes of their time remaining, Harry poured a ladle full of his potion into a vial labelled with his name. Snape exited and left the class to tidy. Harry proceeded to clean up his work bench, carrying his cauldron and equipment cautiously over to the long stone basin. Malfoy was right next to him as they emptied the contents of their cauldrons. Harry realised that the number of other students surrounding the washing up area to clean up and escape as soon as possible had forced them uncomfortably close together. Hermione tapped him on the shoulder, notifying him that she would be leaving first for the library. He nodded and responded with a short “Okay.” Hermione left, following the stream of students who were also heading towards the Great Hall for dinner. Now he and Malfoy were the only students left in the otherwise empty potions classroom. He glanced sideways at Malfoy who was still scrubbing fervently away at his cutting board which had been stained green from the lovage* leaves they had been chopping. Malfoy paused to brush a loose lock of flaxen hair from his face, meeting Harry’s emerald eyes. 

 

In his hurry to pretend that he had _not_ just been staring again, Harry accidently pressed the blade of his silver dagger a little too hard, resulting in a long cut which ran the length of his palm. A pained hiss escaped from his lips, drawing Malfoy’s attention to his hands. Rivulets of crimson blood ran down the Harry’s arm as he squeezed his fist and raised it above his head to stop the blood.

 

“What’s wrong?” Malfoy asked with genuine concern in his voice.

“It’s nothing.” Harry lied, turning away.

“Are you hurt?” Malfoy tried again.

“I said it’s nothing. Would you just leave me alone, Malfoy?” Harry grumbled and began pacing the room with Malfoy following him trying to examine Harry’s wound.

“Draco.”

“What?”

“Call me Draco.”

 

Harry paused with a confused look on his face. Seizing the opportunity, Draco grabbed Harry’s wrist. He pried Harry’s fist open and clucked his tongue softly at the gash he saw. Harry watched, as Draco reached into the pockets of his robes and extracted a silk silver handkerchief with his free hand. Dabbing gently at the wound to wipe away some of the blood, Draco drew out his wand. An audible intake of breath made Draco look up. He could sense Harry’s apprehension. It was understandable; who would rationally let their arch nemesis’ wand near any part of their body?

“It’s okay. I’m not going to curse you. Don’t pull away.” Draco assured the brunette. Staring intently into Harry’s green orbs, he made sure that Harry could feel all of his sincerity. 

“That’s easy for you to say.” Harry muttered as he finally conceded.

“Episkey.” Draco ran his wand gently along the cut. Harry’s skin began to repair itself but the cut did not heal completely. Harry swallowed as he gazed at Draco’s look of absolute concentration. Harry had never expected Draco to be so tender yet firm and meticulous.

“Sorry.” Draco sighed, stowing away his wand to re-examine the gash.

“Why are you apologising? You just helped me.”

“My spell was too weak. Look you’re still bleeding.” Draco carefully wrapped the silk cloth around Harry’s hand. He could feel Draco’s delicate and long fingers brushing against his skin as Draco secured the knot on his handkerchief.

“There.” Draco smiled with a satisfied sigh. Their eyes met again. Harry could feel the heat rising in his face as Draco studied him intensely without any intent to avert his eyes.

“Thanks.” Harry pulled his wrist from Draco’s grip and broke the connection. Clasping his hands together, Harry began to nervously rub his thumb along the handkerchief drenched red with his blood. He began pacing again.

Draco grinned inwardly as his eyes followed Harry. His inner werewolf almost howled with excitement. It felt like he was on a hunt and Harry -his cute little Harry so easily flustered by the most innocent of gestures- was his prey. As Draco approached Harry slowly, the prey would retreat a few steps. Draco continued to do so until he was only inches from Harry’s face.

 

Feeling trapped and slightly vulnerable having backed himself into a corner with Draco blocking any path of exit, Harry swallowed and shut his eyes tightly. He was surprised when he felt something soft but slightly dry pressing against his lips. Harry’s eyes shot open. Draco was kissing him. Draco _Malfoy_ was kissing him!

 

He gasped and unwittingly admitted Draco’s tongue which had ran along the seams of his lips only moments before. Draco deepened the kiss and explored the warm and wet cavern of Harry’s lips thoroughly. He licked Harry’s rows of perfect teeth; sucked and nipped gently at Harry’s moist lips, slightly swollen from his rigorous attacks. Draco intimately acquainted his tongue with Harry’s own. 

 

“Mmm!” Harry let out a panicked squeak. He couldn’t breathe and was struggling to push Draco off, the pain of his injury forgotten. He clawed at Draco’s robes but both his wrists were captured and pinned against the wall behind him.

 

Before long, Draco broke their kiss and released Harry from his strong grasp. Harry stood, dazed and breathless. Finally coming to himself, Harry gave Draco a nervous and hesitant glance before walking brusquely for the door.

“Don’t forget to go to the hospital wing.” Draco called out.

Harry did not respond. However, he had the feeling that if he had turned back to look, Draco would most definitely been displaying a trademark smirk.

 

 

Lying in bed that night, Draco wondered if he had perhaps gone a little too far. Had it been too early? If the case were so, it would seem that Draco had jeopardised any chance he may have had with Harry. But Harry had smelt _so_ good standing next to him. When he blushed, Draco realised, his scent would grow stronger. The aroma seemed to roll off him in waves. And then when he had cut himself, the smell had intensified so much that it was almost heady to inhale. Draco rubbed himself through the fabric of his silk boxers as he thought about the kiss they shared. He felt the heaviness of his balls and the prominent bulge his erection had produced.

 

He knew he shouldn’t. Draco already promised himself that he would not jerk off again until he had made Harry his. He prayed vehemently that it wouldn’t be too far off before that happened as Draco was already very close to breaking his own pledge.

 

He wondered vaguely what Harry was doing at that very moment. It was well past midnight so Harry must be in bed and asleep. Smiling, Draco imagined what a sleeping Harry would look like. Was he a restless sleeper, tossing and turning around on his mattress, throwing off his sheets in the warmth of the spring evening? Or was he laying still, his hair falling about his face as he slept, breathing lightly so that his chest rose and fell gently underneath his pyjamas? Did Harry sleep in the nude?

 

Deciding he wanted to find all this information out for himself, Draco got out of bed and dressed lightly. He opened his bedroom window and the warm breeze of the night flowed in. He transformed into his animagus form. This skill, Draco had acquired without too much difficulty in his sixth year when he would sneak out to practice quidditch in the dead of night in hope of defeating the Gryffindors for the Quidditch Cup. It was all quite convenient, really. Hopping onto the window ledge, he beat his wings and took off into the twilight.

 

Rolling under his sheets and unable to sleep, Harry kicked off his covers. He sat up and sighed exasperatedly. Falling back onto his bed which groaned underneath Harry’s weight, Harry rolled to his side as Ron grunted in his sleep. Harry had been distracted all throughout dinner, continuously thinking back to the kiss that had been stolen by Draco Malfoy. Harry had observed Draco during the meal and noticed no change in the other boy. He had interacted normally with all the other Slytherins. He ate his dinner and generally ignored all the other tables. And now Harry was so very confused. Didn’t Draco hate him and all that he had come to represent? Wasn’t Draco supposed to be his rival?

...Draco? _Draco_? **Draco**?!

Harry punched his pillow. When did ‘Malfoy’ become ‘Draco’ anyway?!

He suddenly remembered exactly when. When Draco asked it to be so, that’s when!

Harry flopped onto his chest and sighed again.

...Stupid Draco.

He could feel something underneath his pillow and irritated, stuffed his hand beneath the feather-filled cushioning to extract it. It was Draco’s silk handkerchief. And it was still stained with Harry’s blood, now dry and caked. Harry could just make out the adroit embroidery which spelled out ‘Draco Malfoy’ in black silk thread and elegant script. Tracing the tip of his index finger along the stitching, Harry touched his fingers to his chapped lips.

“Draco” he whispered as his eyes fluttered shut.

 

Picking up his wand from his bedside cabinet, Harry casted a quick Scourgify spell on Draco’s handkerchief. Part of the caked on blood vanished revealing the soft silver silk underneath. Harry brought the cloth to his nose and breathed in softly. The scent of expensive cologne filled his nostrils. It was Draco’s scent. It spoke of refined masculinity; exactly Draco.

 

A shiver ran down Harry’s spine. Quickly casting a Silencing Charm, Harry closed his posters hurriedly but left one open so that the moon rays filtered through the window panes. He could never see very well anywhere without his glasses let alone in the dark. He lay down on his bed, still sniffing at the handkerchief. A free hand ran down his stomach and into his cotton briefs. Stroking experimentally, Harry remembered Draco’s warm lips pressed against his own. He imagined what it would be like if Draco were to kiss him in other places- intimate places.

 

Finding that his hand was too confined, Harry sat up and set the handkerchief aside. He lifted his hips and pulled the briefs all the way to his ankles before settling down again. Finding his erection again, Harry stroked more firmly. He massaged his sac as he played with his cock.

 

“Mmm...” he moaned as he continued to masturbate. Thrashing his head from side to side as he concentrated on the sensations that he was creating and pretending it was Draco who was creating them.

“Nn...” Harry increased his pace gradually. He felt a tightening sensation in his crotch. 

“Ahnn!” Rivulets of cum splattered his stomach and thighs as he continued to milk himself of every drop. He yelled his release. A small subconscious part of his mind congratulated Harry for having thought of casting a spell. Harry knew he was very noisy when it came to jerking off.

 

Satiated, Harry sat up and waved his wand, cleaning up his sticky bed and body quickly. His heart nearly jumped from his throat when he heard a rustling noise. Relieved, Harry fell to bed sleepily, glad that it was only a slate grey Sparrowhawk taking off.

 

Draco swooped through the open window of his room and landed gracefully on the back of his elegant armchair. He transformed back into his human form and paced the room restlessly. He stopped before starting again. Finally he sat down upon his bed. Rolling onto his back, Draco stared up at the canopy of his large four poster bed. He sat up again and stared at his feet.

 

He had never imagined himself to be a voyeur. Now Draco knew better. He was most definitely a voyeur...or at least, for Harry Potter. Draco suddenly remembered the sensuality of Harry’s hand as it had made its descent towards his nether regions. And the way Harry parted his lips ever so slightly as he came nearer to finding his ecstasy. Draco also remembered how Harry had squeezed his thighs together and arched his back as he came.

 

Why? _Why_ did he need to have a sudden urge to see Harry? Now, Draco couldn’t forget what he saw through the Gryffindor Seventh Year Boys’ Dormitory. Great! Fantastic in fact! Now, Draco knew for sure that he would be rubbing himself raw until morning. And that he would most definitely be breaking the vow he had made to himself.

 

And Draco Malfoy had every intention to break that vow while reliving the Golden Boy masturbating!

* * *

A/N:  
And that's all for now. Please review :D Constructive criticism is appreciated as much as all other positive comments. Thank you readers!

^ - I borrowed this idea from one of Lychee’s stories. Basically, it’s a potion that causes the drinker to lose their inhibitions.  
* - lovage is "moste efficacious in the inflaming of the braine, and [is] therefore much used in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts, where the wizard is desirous of producing hot-headedness and recklessness" (OP18) [I thought it most appropriate as an ingredient in the Bacchantes potion.]


	3. Third Sense: Only These Fingertips Know

  
Author's notes: Draco's making his move at last and Harry doesn't seem completely abhorent to the idea.  


* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not and will never own any of these characters or the Potter Universe. All rights and copyrights (except for this fan fiction’s plot) belong to J.K Rowling and associated publishers and producers of the Harry Potter series. No money has been or will be made from the following story._

**A/N: Good news everyone! After a long, long, long period on hiatus, I am back! So enjoy I guess? Please, as always, leave constructive criticism and comments. They are much appreciated. Actually one of the reasons I am continuing this story in the first place was due to a lovely user by the name of Queen Anne who read one of my other stories and ALWAYS left nice comments for me! Thank you, you have no idea how much that means. SO this is a shout out to you.**

Also please excuse me if my English and grammar has gone down the drain. It’s been a terribly long time since I wrote anything creative so I just can’t compute words like I used to.

* * *

Only These Fingertips Know

 

Draco Malfoy continued to puzzle Harry during their successive encounters. His foul-mouth and short temperament when it came to all things Gryffindor, Golden Trio or Harry Potter related seemed to have gradually disintegrated. The new Draco was gentle and passive. He made no attempts to provoke Harry and sometimes was even helpful, even if it were only minimally so. Harry never thought he would ever have used those terms to describe any Malfoy, let alone Draco.

 

But what baffled Harry most, was not Draco’s change of attitude and behaviour (this Harry was actually quite pleased with, reprieved from Draco’s formerly endless childish taunts). It was the way that Draco was now looking at him.  
No.  
Not looking.  
Staring - and drooling, metaphorically of course- like he was licking Harry’s body all over with his eyes. It was unsettling to say the least. Harry had developed an amazing and quite accurate sensory skill to detect exactly when Draco was doing so. Like right now. He could feel an intense shiver running from the base of his neck to the tip of his tailbone. It almost made his knee weak and Harry had to grip the table in front of him rather firmly for support as he stood. He felt like his hair was standing on end.

 

The library was rather quiet on a lazy Saturday afternoon, most of the Hogwarts students having gone off to enjoy whatever frivolities they had planned. Ron and Hermione had headed off to Hogsmeade together under the pretence of buying more stationery supplies but Harry knew that they had finally, FINALLY admitted to their feelings and were dating. Not wanting to intrude on the new couple, Harry had politely declined their offer to come with. Instead he was there now, flipping through an assortment of textbooks and research material attempting to catch up on missed essays and homework. He had neglected this special post-NEWTs pile and was now paying dearly for it.

 

He did not realise Draco had slipped into the seat behind him until he felt those particular and peculiar tingles he now associated with the handsome blonde. Looking up from the text and gasping gently, he snapped the book he had been reading shut before shuffling further along the rows of bookshelves under the pretext of finding more sources. He could hear the gentle scrape of the chair followed by gentle footsteps muffled by the coarse carpet underfoot. At the very last row just before the Forbidden Section, Harry made a sharp turn. As he did so he caught a glimpse of the trademark platinum blonde hair of his none too subtle stalker, but unfortunately having diverted his attention, ran straight into the corner of the bookshelf.

 

In quite a slapstick manner, Harry was knocked backwards, arms flailing, landing on his arse in spectacular fashion. He rubbed his aching nose and front jaw that had unceremoniously kissed the smooth cherry wood obstacle as his eyes, squeezed shut, watered from surprise. As he opened them again, he saw a large but elegant hand being offered to him.

 

Harry looked absolutely beautiful, from behind his askew glasses, eyes glistening with tears as he looked up at Draco in bewilderment, Draco thought. After a moment of hesitation, to Draco’s pleasant surprise, Harry placed his fingers inside Draco’s large palms and was helped to his feet. Several weeks ago, Draco knew Harry would have just pushed his polite gesture away and made some snide remark about Draco’s supposed phobia of muggle-relations. This was most definitely progress. Although the remark was still there as Harry muttered almost inaudibly “I’m not a zoo animal you can ogle at any time you like.”  
Confused, Draco asked “What’s a ‘z-zu’?”

 

Harry stared at him blankly for a moment before covering his face and snickering, his pain forgotten as he realised Draco could never have known what a zoo was. Although he was unamused, Draco patiently waited for Harry’s giggle fit to subside. When it did, the tension also dispersed. Draco broke into a small smile only to see Harry’s face fall suddenly.

 

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked concerned that he may have just relapsed into their former mortal nemesis routine “Was it something I did?”

“N-no.” Harry stuttered, turning away, “It’s nothing.”

From where he stood, Draco could see that the tops of Harry’s ears were turning red. How cute! Harry was blushing. Draco attempted some gentle coercion, “Please tell me?”  
Harry shook his head violently.

“Please?” Draco tried again. He leant closer to Harry’s ear, whispering from behind, “I’ve never asked anyone anything as nicely in my life.”

 

This seemed to be Harry’s undoing as he began to tremble ever so slightly. Harry continued to cover his face as a muffled “I-thought-you-looked-really-good-when-you-smiled” escaped his lips. Draco was stunned. He stood transfixed on the spot, unmoving and expressionless. Harry was terrified that Draco was playing some awful prank on him or that any second every single Slytherin Seventh Year student would jump out, pointing and laughing. But after a few seconds of silence, Harry peeked over his shoulder to see what Draco’s reaction would be. To Harry’s even greater surprise, the Malfoy heir was also blushing, averting his eyes and covering his mouth to hide a small satisfied grin.

 

Harry thought Draco’s silence was extremely humble. Normally the standard response would have been “Of course, I’m a Malfoy” or the like. While technically true – the Malfoys were amazingly beautiful people, down to the very last hair- would have been extremely arrogant and annoying. Instead Draco nodded and whispered a small “Thank you.”

 

They both stood awkwardly for a moment, before Harry decided to speak up. “Di-did you need anything from me in particular?”

“No. I just felt like seeing you.”

Harry’s ears coloured a little more as he heard Draco’s unhesitant response. “Why? I mean we’re not known to be on the best of terms.”

“I know. I want to change that.”

“Why?”

“It’s because I want you.”

Harry’s eyes met Draco’s. His emerald orbs stared intensely into Draco’s unflinching silvery gaze. For the first time, Harry realised Draco’s eyes were not just grey but was also flecked with icy blue throughout. It was breath taking.

 

Their faces drew nearer as the distance between their bodies shortened. Draco could feel Harry’s warm breath on his skin, puffing gently as he exhaled and inhaled nervously. Unable to withstand the distance between them any longer as he breathed in Harry’s earthy scent, Draco closed the gap. Pulling Harry into an assertive and passionate kiss, Draco wrapped his arms possessively around Harry’s small waist.

 

Harry had to wonder when Draco became so tall. His shoulders were much broader and his muscles much firmer than Harry’s own. Harry had always been thin but he was by no means effeminate. Perhaps Draco had just developed more. Draco’s embrace was rather comfortable. Harry would have been able to stay there forever had it not been for the deep kisses making it extremely hard to breathe comfortably. Harry pulled away slightly, catching his breath before diving back in with equal passion. 

 

Draco leaned back against the shelf as Harry keenly rested on his chest, their tongues continuing to battle. Harry was rather noisy, moaning in appreciation of Draco’s efforts. The beast inside Draco’s chest inwardly howled with enthusiasm. He liked this wild side of Harry too. Sneakily, Draco’s hands slid down slowly, coming to rest on Harry’s firm, fleshy cheeks. Harry didn’t seem to notice until Draco began to gently massage them, cupping them as they fitted perfectly in his hands. Harry gasped and blushed again.

 

The beast in Draco’s lower half was also howling for release at this point. But knowing Harry had probably never tried this with another wizard before, Draco did not want to hurt or scare Harry off. Trying to restrain himself, he fixated on pleasuring Harry instead. Rubbing gentle circles on Harry’s delectable behind, Draco’s hands made their way up again and under Harry’s navy blue T-shirt, coming to rest again on the base of Harry’s spine. Draco felt for the first time, Harry’s smooth, heated skin. Harry gasped and pulled away from the kiss. He shivered slightly at the contact and arched his body towards Draco, their chests and bellies rubbing together. Slipping a knee between Harry’s thighs it was soon obvious that his partner was feeling as needy as he. Listening to Harry’s laboured breathing, surrounded by the scent that had been driving him mad all year long, something in Draco snapped. Soon Harry found his whole body being ravaged by Draco’s wandering hands, his mouth attacked again and again by waves of kisses; some were just a peck and others long and almost bruising as though Draco were trying to suck him up.

 

Harry was in too much ecstasy to reciprocate, and even if he could, he was much too shy. Instead he clung to the shoulder of Draco’s light sweater desperately, whimpering from pleasure. Draco’s hands slowly found their way to the front of Harry’s anatomy. Rubbing through the thin fabric of Harry’s shirt, Draco teased Harry’s hardening nipples and sucked lightly on Harry’s exposed neckline. 

“Nngh.” Harry shuddered.

He gradually ventured lower and cupped Harry’s crotch gently. Harry’s breath hitched as his automatic reaction was to rub against Draco’s palm. Through half-closed eyes Harry could see Draco’s burgeoning erection strain against the fabric of his pants. He watched, mesmerised as they rubbed their aching need against each other as Draco removed his hand. It was a dangerous new territory that Harry was approaching as they continued to thrust against each other, the delicious friction and the imminent release he was being denied.

 

All too quickly, they were interrupted.

“Dracooooo?” a sickeningly sweet voice called out. “Are you in here?”

Growling under his breath, Draco knew immediately who that voice belonged to. Pansy never really had good timing when it came to anything. Harry had stopped moving, too afraid to even exhale for fear of discovery. He was frozen and looked nervously into Draco’s eyes.

“Ignore it.” Draco whispered as he continued to spread kisses all over the flushed skin of Harry’s throat.

“Mm.” Harry trembled as his senses returned.

“Draco, I know you’re in here! Crabbe said he saw you walk this way.” Pansy’s voice was drawing nearer.

Letting out an angry puff of resignation, Draco gently extracted himself from between Harry and the bookshelf behind him. All traces of his lust dispersed as soon as he heard Pansy’s whining. Bumping his forehead gently against the shorter man, he whispered something into Harry’s ears, making him blush. Straightening himself, he cast one last glance at Harry before confronting Pansy. As he pulled away, he could feel as though Harry was hesitant to release his hand. Looking back at the enchanting eyes, Draco was reluctant to break their lingering grip. Their fingertips brushed longingly before Draco was resolved to go.

 

Making a quick dash for an alternative row of books to mislead Pansy’s trail towards the back of the library where Harry stood, Draco calmed himself before poking his head out.

“What is it Pans?”

Pansy immediately brightened when she saw Draco’s face. She linked the crook of their elbows together and proceeded to march them, quite assertively, out of the library while chatting incessantly about something that Draco “would not believe just happened”. Draco inwardly thought to himself “I left a potential super sexy make out session with Harry for _this_?”

 

As Pansy continued to rant Draco had already tuned out.

“So anyways, I said to Granger, ‘My boyfriend is better in every single aspect than yours. Draco has the looks, money and brains Weasley could never hope to possess.’ And she tried to argue with me like morals was a substitute for any of those things! Haha, isn’t that funny?”

Draco abruptly stopped.

“Draco?”

“Did you just call me your boyfriend, Pansy?”

“Yes. And I’m happy to accept.”

Draco was dumbfounded.

“Pansy, when did I ever ask you out?”

“You don’t have to. It’s all too clear how you feel about me.”

He withdrew his arm from her possessive grip. Pinching the bridge of his nose he shook his head.

“That’s exactly what I mean. I haven’t been clear enough until now have it?”

Gripping her arms firmly as he stared into her eyes Draco began “Pansy. Let me be forward with you: I will never and have never seen you as a girlfriend. You’re not my type. I have no intention of leading you on. I don’t like you. You’re overly possessive, snarky and average.”

Her tears began to build behind her lids. All too suddenly Pansy burst into tears. A hand flew across Draco’s face with a resounding smack.

“You’re so mean!” she screeched before running towards the girl’s lavatories.

Rubbing his face to ease the sting, Draco was glad that at least that was one less potential interruption.

* * *

**A/N: Ah there done. Sorry to end in such a semi-cliff hanger state. Thanks for reading and please R &R guys! :D**

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	4. Fourth Sense: Feast

  
Author's notes: A midnight rendevouz between Harry and Draco.  


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_Disclaimer: I do not and will never own any of these characters or the Potter Universe. All rights and copyrights (except for this fan fiction’s plot) belong to J.K Rowling and associated publishers and producers of the Harry Potter series. No money has been or will be made from the following story._

**A/N: Wow, it’s been an awfully long time since I wrote or updated anything. Life’s been a bit crazy and I’m finally feeling like things are settling at last. I thought I’d manage to push out another chapter of ‘Five Senses’ for everyone. As always, un-beta’d and all mistakes are my own.**

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Feast

Harry’s heart was still thudding against his chest as he left some minutes after Pansy Parkinson had dragged Draco out of the library. In retrospect and from a standpoint completely removed of the situation, the fact that he, Harry Potter, had kissed one, Draco Malfoy was almost absurd. However, they had indeed kissed and dammit, Harry had enjoyed every single second of it. Residual sensations elicited a shiver that ran from the top of Harry’s head to the ends of his toes as he walked a little unsteadily towards Gryffindor tower.

Harry had known for quite a while that he did not find females sexually attractive. They were too soft, too emotional - too different. Cho Chang had been a total disaster; it was clear that she was not interested in Harry at all throughout the entire affair of their one disastrous date– her longing for Cedric Diggory, who had unfortunately been transferred to Durmstrang due to his father’s promotion, kept them from any real explorations of each other. Harry had ended up rather bored on their date as Cho constantly noted and compared things that reminded her of Cedric. He had on this occasion, thought that his disinterest in Cho was simply because they were incompatible due to her lingering feelings for someone else; their one, passionless kiss was all that Harry needed to dissuade him of the notion that he had found Cho to be attractive in the first place.

It was not until Ginny that he truly realised he would never be able to reciprocate the feelings of any girl. They had dated at the end of Harry’s fifth through to the beginning of Harry’s sixth year. It was as normal and as any dating relationship could have gotten. Harry had asked her out after much consideration as to the pros and cons of the situation as well as his feelings towards Ginny. With the grinning approval of Ron and the rest of the Weasley family, she had accepted. They had shared activities as any dating couple would. They had kissed and held hands, went on picnics and broom rides. It was all terribly romantic and sweet. But that was exactly the problem. Harry didn’t want sweet. He wanted passion and fire and though Ginny was no less enthusiastic in their kisses and caresses, it always lacked something. He loved Ginny; that much he knew. But he was not in love with her and she was the closest girl he had ever thought himself to be romantically interested in.   
And then something momentous occurred. Near the end of their relationship when they were back at Hogwarts, Gryffindor was playing against Hufflepuff in the second match of the season. It was an ordinary day - clear if somewhat chilled. Gryffindor had won of course; it was only natural – Harry was seeker and Hufflepuff’s new replacement for Cedric was not nearly as talented as his predecessor. They had celebrated in the male showers in their typically Gryffindor-esque manner, with Harry hoisted onto the shoulders of Ron and one of Gryffindor’s new beaters, Jimmy Peakes, with a swing that could crack a Mountain Troll’s skull as various Gryffindor males cheered and whooped. 

It was then that their old team captain from Harry’s first year made an appearance to congratulate them. Harry had been unceremoniously dropped onto the floor as faces turned in awe when they recognised Oliver Wood in his official Quidditch uniform of Puddlemere United. Oliver was visiting, fresh from his team’s latest victory against the Chudley Cannons (something Ron had grumbled about for over a week). He had long since graduated from his position as reserve keeper and was now an official and valued team member of Puddlemere. Oliver flashed them a brilliant grin and held out his hand to Harry who graciously took it and was pulled up onto his feet. As the others patted and welcomed Oliver back into the Lion’s den, Harry had taken time to note that the last traces of gangly awkwardness of youth had been replaced by toned rippling muscles. He silently appreciated the effects of Oliver’s intensive Quidditch training.

Oliver had hung around as the team showered and got changed, getting ready for dinner. They all asked numerous questions about his career and inside gossip about the Puddlemere team. Oliver was contractually unable to answer the questions of a more political nature but patiently responded to those that he could. Harry also realised that the majority of the time, Oliver had been covertly glancing in his direction as he wandered about the change room in various stages of undress. The strangest thing was he did not feel uncomfortable with the attention in the slightest. In fact, while he felt a little embarrassed (after all there was no way his physique could compare to most of the other males his age – years of being underfed while forced to do heavy labour at the hands of the Dursleys had seen to that) he oddly pleased.

Having been last to use the showers, Harry was still putting on fresh clothing while the others had gone off to dinner when he realised Oliver was still there. He smiled shyly and asked Oliver whether he would be staying for dinner. Oliver smiled in return, though his was much more confident and had strode over next to Harry, picking up his abandoned towel and continued to dry Harry’s hair affectionately as it was still dripping. Harry was hyper aware of their close proximity in that moment. He could smell the wonderful cologne that Oliver was wearing, masculine, mature and so very different from his sweaty and boyish year mates. Oliver continued to look at him intensely and in that moment Harry had the strangest desire to press his lips against the older man’s. He had wondered what it would taste and feel like. In that same moment, Oliver seemed to read his mind and almost experimentally, leant down and kissed Harry firmly. Harry gasped slightly from surprise as he felt Oliver’s tongue run along the seam of his lips, coaxingly parting them. From the second that their tongues met as Harry accepted Oliver into the wet moist cavern of his mouth, the kiss escalated and Harry’s body seemed to fill and explode with sensation.

_This_ was kissing.

Anything he had experienced before could only be an exchange of fluids when compared to what Oliver was allowing him to experience. His hands roamed wildly, touching and squeezing as he moaned into the other’s mouth. They pulled apart slowly. Without any awkwardness, Oliver had simply smiled and politely offered to escort Harry to dinner.

They had not spoken of what the kiss meant afterwards. Harry had initially been a little disappointed. It was the first kiss where he had ever felt such passion and truthfully could not wait to repeat. But after Oliver had left, Harry realised there was a myriad of reasons as to why Oliver didn’t indicate he wanted more. Harry was too young for one. He was still in school and had a very uncertain future with many changes to come. Oliver had a reputation to maintain – they were both public figures though Harry was loath to admit to his own brand of fame and Puddlemere’s fans were not just males after all. Outing one of their most popular players would likely see a huge decrease in supporters who admired and fawned over Oliver’s good looks and talent. Still, they corresponded occasionally – Harry secretly had held onto the hope that they could see more of each other once he had finished at Hogwarts.

He had confessed to Ginny afterwards – tactfully excluding the part where he had kissed Oliver – he was beginning to feel the strain of their relationship; though he loved her and enjoyed being with her, he felt that they understood each other like best friends rather than potential lifetime partners. He truly did not want to waste either of their time by trying to keep pretence of being _in_ love. Ginny had astonishingly agreed with his assessment of their relationship. She too could tell that his heart was not in it. Ginny had slowly begun to realise that her somewhat childish romanticisation of her idol crush was not shaping up to what she had imagined. While Harry was still as wonderful a person as any true friend could be, but that was precisely the problem. She had wanted a boyfriend who was gallant and caring and perhaps a little more sensible. Though Harry was all these things, his actions sometimes showed his lack of experience in how to treat a girlfriend as opposed to a girl friend.

While the rest of the Weasleys had been disappointed by this development and for the next several months had tried to help reunite them, they had both firmly held their ground on the matter. Ginny had moved on rather quicker than expected and was currently dating a Ravenclaw seventh year by the name of Matthew Jonson who was a remarkable hand at chess and Quidditch Chaser, though he did not play on his house team, to all their confusion. The boy was incredibly polite and so full of good intentions that even Ron could not find fault in him.

Back to the present, Draco Malfoy had done an about face on his views of Harry and associates and now Harry was left completely confused. Well…Perhaps not confused by it as much as he was aroused. Perhaps the line between love and hate was terribly fine and this entire time it had been sexual tension mounting between the two of them and not complete and utter loathing. Harry had to admit that he actually liked this gentle yet somehow deliciously impassionate side of Draco than the glimpses of haughty airs and graces that the Malfoy heir seemed to project in the past. His intimidations and threats had been childish and laughable but then again they had both been children when they had last traded direct insults in the presence of the other.  
Remembering himself now in the strong embrace of the Draco who had zealously kissed and almost devoured him, Harry realised that Draco could not be further from the image of his childhood nemesis. As they had parted, Draco had whispered softly in his ear to meet him in the Room of Requirement later that night at midnight. Harry was hesitant. There was a part of him that wanted to explore the potential something that was blossoming between them. Yet there was also another part that was screaming at him to run in the other direction. That surely, this was all a cunning set up on the Slytherin’s part to humiliate and belittle him further than any previous year. But if that was truly what Draco wanted, then he would not have ended their kiss at Pansy Parkinson’s approach at the library this morning. That would have been the perfect opportunity to be ‘discovered’ in a compromising position. Furthermore, it seemed unlikely that Draco would dirty his own hands. Harry also did not believe that such passionate, fiery kisses could be an act.

As the destined time approached, Harry was still weighing up his options. To go was to admit that he wanted this too. Not going meant he could avoid any salacious rumours that may begin to spread, intentionally or otherwise. But at the same time, it could mean never knowing what could have been. As his roommates snored and snuffled in their sleep, Harry quietly crept to the foot of his bed and opened his trunk to retrieve the Marauder’s Map. Opening it to the Room of Requirement, he spotted the dot that seemed to be impatiently pacing up and down the corridor. He smiled to himself. Clearly, being a prefect had its privileges; Draco Malfoy was quite openly awaiting his arrival. He rummaged through his trunk to retrieve his invisibility cloak and with a small prayer to whoever was listening he hoped that his decision to trust, just this once, in Draco Malfoy would be for the better.

Draco was understandably nervous. Though he had asked Harry to meet him, Harry had neither offered a confirmation nor was able to confirm at the time that he accepted Draco’s invitation. What if Harry didn’t show up? Or worse, what if he thought Draco was trying to trick him? Surely he had been sincere enough in his recent interactions to convince Harry that he truly meant no harm. But was it enough to right the wrongs of his past? And that little thought made Draco doubt himself that much more. 

As Draco was busy chewing himself out for all his past stupidity, he did not notice that quiet patter of footsteps that approached which seemed to not be accompanied by a body. His heart nearly jumped out of his throat as suddenly a hand materialised from thin air and tapped him on the shoulder. It took all his will power not to jump three feet in the air and scream like a girl, for that would certainly have been very unbecoming of his status. Suddenly Harry’s head appeared along with the hand wearing a look of worry and offered a shy “Sorry” as Draco clutched at his chest, attempting to still the wild beating of his heart.

Draco’s nerves were instantly calmer. He smiled at Harry and assured him that he was fine if a little surprised. They stood awkwardly in the almost darkness, lit only by beams of waning moonlight filtering through the large arc windows a little further down where they stood. Draco finally took a deep breath and offered Harry his hand. Harry hesitantly took the outstretched hand and allowed himself to be led to stand in front of the blank stretch of wall where the doors to the room of requirement would appear. Draco finished his pacing and they entered, the quiet snick of the doors closing, the only indication that something monumental was about to transpire beyond the stretch of empty corridor.

Harry took in the décor of the room and was quietly amazed at the amount of detail and thought Draco had put into their rendezvous. Though nothing had been spoken between them since that single, breath-robbing kiss that morning, Harry had a very good idea of what Draco wanted to do by asking to meet. He could not deny that he wanted it too. Yet there was a very distinct lack of bed in the room. Instead there was a beautiful garden with a small spring that poured itself into a small pond. Fireflies glowed and danced about in the weeping willows and low shrubbery that surrounded the pond. There was a massive navy picnic rug and several pillows in neutral to masculines shades artfully arranged on the gentle grassy slope that led to the water filled with waterlilies so purple they almost seemed blue. The air was sweetly scented with jasmine, the flowers small and white that was growing on a trellis that the picnic rug sat under. While undeniably romantic, Harry also appreciated that it was not at all girly; he may be gay but he was not a woman.

Draco led them to the rugs and they sat down side by side, their bodies just inches away. Food materialised in front of them. While Harry was much too nervous to eat, looking at the cool jug of pumpkin juice made him realise how thirsty he was. He gratefully accepted the cup that Draco poured for him. They sat in comfortable silence for a little while longer, both soaking in the scenery around them.

“Harry,” Draco eventually began a little hesitantly. Harry turned his face in gentle enquiry at Draco’s use of his name and in that moment, Draco could not deny how beautiful Harry looked. His intense eyes the colour of Avada Kedavra focused solely on Draco it almost took his breath away. It may have seemed an odd choice of word to describe a man but that was precisely what Harry was: beautiful. The myriad of thoughts that had been flying about in Draco’s head, all the things he wanted, needed to express, he finally spoke “I…I want to apologise for the way I’ve treated you in the past. I was childish and jealous of you.”

Of all the things Harry had expected the blonde to say it certainly had not been an outright apology. He could hear the sincerity in Draco’s words and knew that it must cost Draco much of his pride to admit his past mistakes for Draco was a Malfoy and Malfoys did not apologise to anyone.

Lost in his own surprise, Harry did not realise that his lack of response made Draco think him unconvinced and the blonde continued to ramble. Coming back to himself, Harry pressed his hand to Draco’s mouth to stop the myriad of words. He smiled at the look of confusion on Draco’s face.

“I promise to put it behind us if you promise to do the same.” Harry said slowly pulling his hand away.

Draco nodded, grateful for such forgiveness. “This may seem a bit sudden but… I like you.”

“I was beginning to figure as much.” Harry replied cheekily. Draco could not help but grin. 

His demeanour suddenly turned serious as harry asked “But why now? What’s changed?”

Draco looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. “Truthfully, I came into my magical inheritance on my birthday. When I came back to Hogwarts, there was always this beautiful scent that seemed to follow me around everywhere. That was you. At first I thought it was Wea- Ronald. That scared the hell out of me because all the textbooks I’ve read on the matter indicated that the scent was supposed to be a potential mate. If it had been him, I don’t think I would have been able to handle it. I can’t imagine ever developing a taste for ginger pubes.”

Harry chuckled. He had expected Draco to harbour a more political bias towards Ron rather than just the simple physical attribute of flaming red hair. But then a sobering thought occurred to him. “Does that mean that this is just pheromones talking and you actually still don’t like me at all?” He couldn’t help feel a little twinge of pain.

“No! No, no.” Draco vehemently denied “That may have been what started it for me but after I realised it was you and started noticing you more I realised…I realised that I was wrong about a lot of things. I don’t think I can ever explain enough on that count.”

“I might have been a little judgemental of you too.” Harry mumbled, fiddling with the corner of the rug to hide his embarrassment.

Draco gently slid his hand in Harry’s. They sat in silence for a little longer, neither willing to break the tranquillity. Finally, Draco cupped Harry’s face gently and turned so that they were nose to nose. “May I?” he sought permission as they stared into each other’s eyes, his breath ghosting over Harry’s lips. Harry nodded just once before Draco brought their lips together in a deep and gentle kiss and their eyes fluttered shut and they both lay down upon the rug. Unlike the kiss earlier that morning, it was not hurried and fierce but it was no less passionate as each of them poured their emotions into the union; a simple re-affirmation of their feelings.

Hands wandered over lean muscle and engorged flesh. Harry shivered as Draco’s hand made contact with his groin and firmly stroked it through the fabric of his sleep pants. Draco continued to kiss him as his hand slowly made its way under the elastic. He could feel Draco smile against his lip as he realised Harry went commando in his pyjamas.

Coaxing Harry to lift his hips, Draco sat up and pulled the pants down past his cock, already at a half-mast. Harry blushed at the way Draco looked at his rigid flesh, almost with a note of reverence. Draco slowly slid down his body and settled between the vee of Harry’s legs and took him firmly in hand. Giving it a confident tug, Draco delighted in Harry’s gasp of pleasure. He licked his lips and gave into the desire as pre-cum pooled at the tip of Harry’s perfect length, lapping it up with relish. The fragrance that had had him obsessed for these past months intensified. He inhaled deeply and savoured the moment. He kissed the tip of Harry’s cock before enveloping it with his mouth. Harry moaned loudly above him.

Draco had a lot of experience with sex; as a wizard, practicing sex with both males and females was viewed as an advantage since the act enhanced types of magic that required empathy to the outcome they wish to influence. He enjoyed receiving blowjobs but this was the first time he offered to perform it himself. Concentrating on emulating the techniques that made him feel good, one hand continued to stroke Harry while the other gripped his hip to hold him in place as he worked his mouth in tandem. He laved the underside with his tongue feeling the throbbing vein and committing every bump and ridge to memory. Harry struggled to control his breathing as Draco suddenly took more of him inside his mouth, gagging slightly as the spongy head rubbed against the back of his throat.

“Oh, God!” Harry cried out throwing his hands over his face as he felt himself flushing at the explicit slurping sounds that filled the quiet of the room. How he still had enough blood in face to blush was a wonder when he was so aroused it almost hurt. He was teetering on the edge of release torn between the delicious torment and the euphoric relief he knew was just out of reach.

The hand that had been pinning his hip suddenly moved to fondle his heavy sac and suddenly Harry could no longer hold back. With a yell from his (finally) lover, Draco’s mouth was flooded with Harry’s essence, pleasantly salty and bitter as the flavour danced across his tongue. He swallowed some of it while savouring the after taste. Crawling up Harry’s body, still trembling from release, he kissed Harry lazily, with tongue and teeth. Harry could taste himself as Draco invaded his mouth delighting in how erotically perverse it was.

“Delicious.” Draco said, drawing back a little to whisper in Harry’s ear. “Be careful or I may just eat you all up.” He growled playfully.

“But what if I want to be eaten?” Harry chuckled before replying.

“Then let us feast!” Draco gestured dramatically with his hand.

Harry suddenly flipped them both over so that he was now on top of Draco. With a grin that promised all manners of wickedness, Harry sensually slid down Draco’s torso towards the prominent bulge in Draco’s own trousers. Cupping it, Harry had every intention of returning the favour…

 

**A/N: This must be my longest chapter yet! Though I suppose in all fairness this story has been overly delayed and you are just getting your fill until the next instalment :P Please R &R! I need the encouragement to plug out the last chapter.  
**


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